


Stabbed me in the back (while you shook my hand)

by AshAndSnow, NamelesslyNightlock



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Asgardian Tony Stark, F/F, Female Loki (Marvel), Female Thor (Marvel), Female Tony Stark, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Happy Ending, Lies, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Oblivious Tony Stark, Protective Loki (Marvel), Protective Thor (Marvel), Royalty, Rumors, Secret Relationship, Sif is a bitch, Sparring, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, slander
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:09:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24216445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshAndSnow/pseuds/AshAndSnow, https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelesslyNightlock/pseuds/NamelesslyNightlock
Summary: When Sif asks to spar, Antonia thinks nothing of it.
Relationships: Loki & Thor (Marvel), Loki/Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Thor
Comments: 31
Kudos: 543
Collections: Fics that make my heart go OOF with fluff





	Stabbed me in the back (while you shook my hand)

**Author's Note:**

> Spite! Write! Spite! Write!
> 
> tag yourself, I'm Thor (edit: and I'm Antonia 😌)

On the surface, the whole thing had started out very innocently.

Which is, perhaps, why Antonia should have been a lot more suspicious from the start.

She and Sif weren’t enemies, really. Or, Antonia hadn’t thought of them as enemies so much as friendly competition. They were often lumped together - whether it came to simple sparring, or because they were each close with a princess of Asgard, landing them at the same tables, on the same quests, in the same tents.

They weren’t friends, but Antonia had never had reason to believe they were opposing forces either.

Sniffing out liars and betrayal had always been Loki’s thing, after all.

So when Sif had approached her one afternoon, a smile on her face, asking Antonia to stay a little longer after practice and help her with her swordwork, well. Antonia, helpful soul she was, had agreed.

Sparring with Sif had been uneventful. As uneventful as sparring could be, at any rate. Clashing and smashing, hitting and blocking, lending Sif advice on her footwork and the way she gripped her weapon, while simultaneously using Sif to better her own defense tactics, Antonia felt it was productive nonetheless.

Until they were done sparring.

Sitting on a bench, tending to a loosened strap on her sandals, Antonia offered Sif a pleasant smile as the other warrior woman came to join her. “Good session,” she complimented, genuine and pleased. “You’re a quick learner, you’ve made notable progress just through this past hour. No wonder Thor relies on you as he does.” 

“Thank you for taking the time,” Sif responded, leaning back against the wall behind them and unscrewing the lid on her waterskin. “I think this really helped straighten out some weak spots.”

“The few of them you have,” Antonia grinned. Sif was a formidable warrior; not perfect, nobody was, but Antonia could only admire Sif for owning up to it and trying her best to better herself.

Sif hummed, taking a long drink of water. She seemed pensive. Like she wanted to say something but didn’t quite know how.

“So… You and Loki. You seem close.”

Ah. Antonia wasn’t sure how to feel about that question. It was true enough, and nothing to worry about. But… well. It seemed a loaded statement, and it made Antonia question how much Sif knew. She wanted to be optimistic, and reminded herself that she and Sif had just finished a friendly sparring session; Sif was only making conversation. Yet still… there was _something_ which had her wary. 

So; “Why do you ask?” she questioned, accompanying the words with a wry smile. “Looking for tips on dealing with a princess, as well?”

“Thor and Loki could not be more different,” Sif replied, and although her tone was flippant, it gave Antonia further pause. Still, Antonia told herself it was nothing. “I was merely asking about _you._ I was hoping to get to know you better, and if Loki is a close friend of yours, then is that not a logical question?”

 _See?_ Antonia thought with a touch of relief, even though she couldn’t be sure what it was she was relieved about. _Perfectly ordinary._

“We are close,” she confirmed, her voice gaining a touch of softness which it usually gained while speaking of Loki. “Over the past year, I feel as if she has come to know me better than anyone else ever has.” 

Sif’s lips turned up into a smile. “It has only been recent, then? I’d wondered.”  
“My father was a blacksmith,” Antonia shrugged. “Smith to the royal family, sure, but still just a _smith._ A blacksmith’s daughter and a princess are hardly your usual playmates. No, we met right here.” Antonia found herself grinning as she glanced to the exact spot. “She caught me with a stolen sword, and decided I needed a little tutoring. I suppose you could say that the rest is history.” 

“Interesting.” Sif’s smile turned sharp, but only for such a fleeting moment Antonia thought that she might have imagined it. “Well, this has been fun. We should do it again some time!”

“We should,” Antonia agreed happily. “I enjoyed it.” 

“Me too.” Sif’s smile lasted another moment before she turned away. “See you at dinner, Antonia.” 

And as Sif went to make her way toward the palace, Antonia only continued to smile. She really _had_ enjoyed herself, and she _was_ looking forward to sparring with Sif again. 

After all… what reason had she to believe anything had been simmering under the surface? 

*

Sif asked Antonia to privately spar a few times after that.

Antonia always said yes. She enjoyed herself, and it seemed clear that they were both reaping the benefits. Sif because she had questions and wanted advice; Antonia because she had the chance to familiarize herself with a fighting style rather unlike her own, which improved her defense tactics immensely.

Yet each time, they would wind up on that bench, and Sif would make small talk. She’d ask about different things, seemingly trying to get to know Antonia. But she also always managed to make the conversation circle back to Loki.

Now, Antonia was no fool. A smith’s daughter she might have been, but she was sharp and clever. Of course she noticed the pattern.

But she was also new to the court still. And while she was close with Loki, and she had built a friendship with Thor, she was still finding her place among everyone else. Antonia had always found this to be a great oxymoron of the Asgardians; they lived for thousands of years, yet they were so very resistant to change.

Which wasn’t to say that she’d felt decidedly unwelcome. But it was obvious that she was even now considered a bit of a curiosity. Commoners weren’t exactly banned from socializing with the court, but it was also just the norm that people stuck to their own class. Plenty of people had made something of themselves and risen in the ranks, but far more learned a trade from their parents and stuck to what they knew.

In Antonia’s humble opinion, she wasn’t exactly venturing far away from her field. She’d grown up making weapons; of course she knew how to use them, too. But the other warriors did not view it the same way. And it showed. Even when the others were being welcoming and speaking to her, there was something in the way they spoke to her, treated her, and looked at her, that made her feel somewhat foreign.

Loki had always been the exception; Loki had always made her feel like she was exactly where she belonged.

And now, it seemed Sif could be the same. Or so Antonia told herself. Suspicion would not make her any friends, so she tried to keep her mind open and her smile friendly. Never giving too much away, never spilling the truth of her relationship with Loki. But she also didn’t shy away from Sif’s probing questions. She was secretive; not ashamed.

Until the rumors started to fly.

They were quiet, at first; beginning with just a few looks that felt a little strange along the back of Antonia’s neck, whispers in ears as she walked through the halls. She tried to tell herself she was just being paranoid, that the way the others in the court spoke down to her was starting to get into her mind. She _tried_ to shrug it all off, to continue with her head held high. 

But as rumors spread the whispers grew more brazen, and Antonia began to hear a word here and there. Words that dragged against her skin, that clawed into her nerves and dug deep into her belly. 

Peasant. 

Liar. 

_Whore._

It was the last one that had her gritting her teeth; the others she was more than used to. But _that_ particular word was never used in any way other than to be malicious, and it had Antonia stopping midstep. 

She was on the main street, there were so many people around that it was impossible to tell who had said it. It could have been one of the courtiers looking at expensive market goods, or one of the commoners using what little coin they had to buy themselves a treat. It could have been one of the warriors passing by, could have been one of the sellers, could have been _anyone._ And so, Antonia tried not to linger. She steeled herself, she wiped her expression, she kept on walking. After all, what else was there for her to do? 

She had gone to the market with the intention of buying some materials for the gift she was making Loki, but upon feeling further stares she ducked into the tavern instead, hoping that the darkened taproom would offer her some relief. 

The barman, thankfully, knew her well, and offered her a tankard the moment she stepped up to the bar. She thanked him with a nod and a coin flipped through the air, and then she settled into the dimmest corner of the taproom she could find. 

The ale wasn’t particularly good, but it had the benefit of calming breaths she had not realized had grown strained. She focused on the drink and closed her eyes, reminding herself that she was above these kinds of worries. What did it matter what strangers thought, when her friends knew the truth? When _she_ knew who she was? Their words could only touch her if she let them. 

The darkness of her little corner quickly proved a double edged sword, however. It provided her some peace, surely, since nobody gave her any funny looks, and nobody paid enough attention to her to bother her.

But it also meant that those who might have lowered their voices in something like an attempt at respect - or a simple wish to avoid causing a scene - did not know that they had reason to do so.

“That’s what I heard,” a large, red-haired man with a bushy beard said, seated at the table closest to Antonia’s. “Apparently she’s been sucking up to Princess Loki, just so she can rise above her station.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out they were talking about her.

“Not just Princess Loki,” the other man, equally burly though with almost white blond hair and a much longer beard, said. “Other warriors too. Will beg them for scraps of gossip she can use, and she’ll demand their attention and time whenever she can. She’ll polish your sword for you and then demand you show her how to use it, as a thank you for her unasked for services.”

Red grunted. “If only she had talent and was worth something, but all she is good for is amusing Princess Loki. And suddenly, everyone is supposed to dance for her? I don’t think so.”

“A blacksmith’s daughter is all well and good,” Blond agreed, after a deep swig of his beer. “But everyone must do their part, and this one does not want to earn her place. If either she or Princess Loki might have been a man, one might not wonder what she had to offer.”

Red smirked a bit; despite the lack of light in the tavern, Antonia could see it clear as day, and it was every bit as ugly and nasty as the shiver down her spine would suggest. “Well, who’s to say she isn’t trying to offer it anyway?”

Antonia needn’t hear anymore. She flipped up the hood of her cloak and fled the tavern, the raucous laughter of the two men chasing her the entire way out.

*

Antonia considered telling Loki, oh by the Norns did she consider it. 

Loki, after all, could put a stop to it all; as a princess, she could order the rumors away with as little as a flick of her hand. But to ask such a thing felt like giving in, it felt like only confirming everything the people were saying: that she was useless, that she was incapable of doing anything for herself. That her entire goal in life was to work her way up to standing with the royals no matter the cost, and that without Loki, she was nothing. 

It wasn’t true, of course; Antonia refused to let it be true. Yet… it would be a lie to say that the rumors were not beginning to get to her. She ceased sparring with Sif - not because of Sif herself, but because she worried people would take their friendship the wrong way - and she limited her interactions with Loki while they were out in public. 

Once, Loki pulled her aside, brought her into a private room and held her close. 

“Are you all right?” the princess asked, her tone softer than it had any right to be. “You have seemed tense, of late.”

And yes; Antonia _thought_ about it. But she refused to give in, and she shook her head. “I’m fine,” she promised. And when Loki continued to look worried, she added, “It’s nothing that I can’t handle.” 

Loki considered her carefully, but… Loki had never been the type to push, had never forced Antonia to give more than she was comfortable with. And after a few moments, Loki nodded with a careful smile, and Antonia only hoped that would be the end of it. 

Of course, she should have known better than that. 

As if Antonia’s decision to simply ignore what was being said gave the people license to grow another pair, the rumours only worsened. Words echoed down hallways, followed her every step. She couldn’t escape the sensation of her flesh crawling over her bones, couldn’t help but feel like every single whisper she heard was about her. 

Surely they weren’t. Surely the world had other things to talk about. 

But then, perhaps they didn’t. 

It was getting worse, _she_ was getting worse, and she couldn’t help but start feeling like the words she’d spoken to Loki had been a lie. She also couldn’t help wondering if… well, the rumors were everywhere. Loki must have heard them. She must know. And she hadn’t done anything to stop them, so, what if she believed them too? 

Antonia’s mind went in circles, as she told herself that she’d _told_ Loki she could handle it. As she told herself that Loki would never trust rumors over what they both knew to be true. But the whispers were a rot inside her mind, eating away at every bit of optimism she had left---

Until there was barely anything left but the anxiety as she turned every corner, the flinch as she heard the sound of any voice. 

*

Despite feeling like she was going mad, Antonia had never truly wanted to take it up with Loki.

Either Loki knew and was by extension either complacent or suffering too, or she didn’t know, in which case bringing it to her attention would either hurt her or make her shrug Antonia off. Whatever the outcome, there would be no winning, and so Antonia had no desire to know the truth. 

So of course she would walk in on Sif regaling a group of the other warriors with tall tales of Antonia’s fictitious misdeeds - with not only Loki but also Thor in tow.

“Well, she told me herself how she became close with Princess Loki,” Sif said, just as the three of them were rounding the corner. And though Sif had not yet said anything that was untrue, nor had she in theory said anything particularly scornful, Antonia’s stomach dropped. That tone of voice promised nothing good, pure derision and superiority as it was.

Suddenly Antonia knew the source of those rumors.

Someone must have prompted Sif to keep talking while Antonia had stopped in her tracks, frozen, because she responded with “well, she told me she’d snuck in here and that’s how she charmed the princess. But one must wonder what princess Loki sees in her, because I certainly can’t tell. Antonia is constantly badgering me to teach her to fight, and she is always hounding me for gossip.”

Please, no no no no no, Antonia thought, please not now. She had been fine with not knowing if Loki knew, had been fine trying to trick herself to think that surely Loki wouldn’t let this happen if she was aware of the whispers. But there was no lying to herself anymore. Here she was, hearing everything Sif had to say. What if Loki believed her? What if Thor did, and convinced Loki of the truth of her words?

As yet unaware of their presence, Sif still basked in the attention of the other warriors. “I taught her everything she knows, but is she grateful? Certainly not. She has no desire to fight or better her skills, she just wants the status that comes with friends in high places. Clearly, she thought I was the best person to come to for help, but I keep refusing her. After the first few sparring sessions, I decided she would never be a worthy warrior, she just does whatever it takes to get ahead, like some common whore.”

Slightly behind Antonia, Loki made a small noise.

Antonia’s heart stilled, but she slowly turned her head to look up at her beloved; she was pale, much more than usual. A few steps further back, Thor’s face was as red as her sister’s was white. Surely that couldn’t be a good sign.

Surely that was a very, very bad sign.

Red normally meant anger, after all. 

Antonia braced herself, scrambled to try and prepare an argument. But what could she say that would convince Thor she was right over Sif? Sif was of high birth, she had been friends with the princesses since they were all very small. Antonia had nothing on that. 

But, then---

“Sif!” It was Thor who had spoken; her voice as loud as the cracks of thunder she could tear down from the sky with a single raised hand. “What is this you’re saying?”

Sif turned with a smile; but the smile fell when her gaze landed on Antonia, her eyes sharpening. “Thor,” she said, her tone sweet; and so very different to the one she had used while they had been sparring, Antonia realised. “It is good to see you---”

“Answer the question.” Loki’s tone, on the other hand, was as sharp as the knives she liked to use in battle, and when she pushed past Antonia, her shoulders were as tense as a bowstring. “What is this nonsense you’re spewing?”

“It’s hardly nonsense,” Sif replied. “Antonia has asked me to spar with her many times---”

“Not true.” Thor moved to stand beside her sister, arms crossing over her chest. “You told me that _you_ were planning to ask Antonia to spar with you, that you wanted to get to know her better.” And Antonia couldn’t see Thor’s expression, but she could _hear_ the frown in her words. “Sif, why are you _lying?”_

The other warriors glanced between themselves, starting to mutter. And Antonia; well, her heart was lifting, her chest feeling oddly tight as she watched. She hadn’t allowed herself to even begin to _hope_ that this might happen, that the princesses would take her side. 

“I am _not lying_ ,” Sif insisted, though her eyes were slightly panicked as she glanced to the warriors around her. “It’s the truth, what reason would I have to lie? Antonia wished to use me to get closer to---”

“If anyone has been using people to climb a social ladder, it is _you_ , Sif,” Loki hissed. “Antonia has done nothing wrong. _I_ was the one who approached her in the training grounds the day we met, not the other way around.” 

“And Antonia is one of the most skilled warriors that I have ever met,” Thor added. “If anything, it is _you_ who needs help from her.” 

“You will stop spilling these lies immediately,” Loki said, and her voice had almost slipped into a snarl. “Antonia has earned her place through her hard work, skill, honesty, and loyalty. None of which you clearly know a damn thing about.” And oh, Loki was the most beautiful thing that Antonia had ever seen right then, like an avenging valkyrie, ruthless and fierce and out for blood.

Sif’s eyes were almost comically wide at this point. “Surely you cannot believe Antonia’s friendship to be real?” she tried. “She is but a blacksmith’s daughter, she has no purpose with us. With _you_.”

“I dare say, she has a great deal more purpose than you,” Loki sneered. “Antonia is my lover, and I trust her far more than your snivelling attempts to tear her down behind our backs. What honor is there in stabbing a friend in the back? What glory is there to be found in fighting someone when they cannot fight back? You are a _disgrace_ , Sif.”

Surely Sif had to know the fight had been lost, but she still took one last look at Thor, as if hoping she could save her; Thor, with her kind heart, who would never let a friend down.

Yet no help was coming. “You have shown me today, Sif, that you do not understand honor, loyalty, or honesty. You lack some of the most important qualities in a warrior, and have lost your way to elitism, cowardice, and jealousy. I think a demotion would serve you right, so that you may learn the ways of the Asgardian warriors anew.”

If the atmosphere had felt tense and awkward before, something more started to bubble beneath the surface. Demotion was a great punishment; warriors earned their rank, and it took a great deal to negate all that hard work. Yet here Sif stood, being stripped of years of progress. The warriors surrounding her shuffled slightly back, as if her affliction could be contagious.

Suddenly, Antonia was no longer the outcast. _Sif_ was.

“Thor---”

“No,” Thor cut her off, grave in a manner so much like the queen she would one day be, and so little like the happy-go-lucky princess she usually was. “My decision is final. And the king will hear about this.”

Sif made a small, strangled noise. That was the final straw. She was done for.

Antonia watched with wide eyes as Sif fell to her knees, as Thor stalked forward and tore the gardbraces from her armour with both hands, tossing them to the floor. Sif’s breathing was heavy, her eyes still wide and pleading, but Thor hardly seemed to notice. 

“You are no longer a warrior of Asgard,” Thor hissed. “You will join the guard, and be _grateful_ that I am not tossing you out entirely.” 

“Thor, _please_ \---”

“You will learn more respect, or you _will_ leave this realm,” Thor interrupted. “No person in this palace may bear ill intent toward my family. _That_ is final.” 

Antonia almost felt like she couldn’t breathe, like a weight had been lifted from her chest and yet her throat was constricting all at once. Thor had… Thor _thought_ \---

“Come, sister,” Thor said, holding out her hand for Antonia’s. “We were on our way to the training grounds, were we not? I still wish to watch as you utterly destroy Loki in a sparring match.”

“We were,” Loki agreed, stepping up on Antonia’s other side and curling an arm around Antonia’s waist. “However, as skilled as you are, my love; I do believe it shall be _I_ who comes out on top.” 

And finally, in the familiarity of the bickering, Antonia found her voice. “I wouldn’t be so sure,” she said; but despite the words, she leaned into her lover’s side, her smile bright as she pressed her lips to Loki’s cheek. 

The touch was light, but it said so much more than words ever could have; it was a thank you, an I love you, a promise. And from the way that Loki tightened her hold around Antonia’s waist, she knew that it had been entirely understood. 

There had been no need to fear, no need to stress; her love still loved her, still stood by her. And while Antonia was all too aware of how rumors tended to stick, all too aware that she would likely be dealing with the repercussions of this for a long time to come, she also knew that she would be able to withstand it. 

Because all the people who mattered knew the truth, and everyone else? 

Well, with Loki’s arm around her waist and Thor’s hand squeezing her own, everyone else could not touch her.


End file.
